The End Zone (Atlanta Lightning 2)

“So…that happened. I’m clearly a drunk cuddler with you,” I said when Jeremy came out of the bathroom. I didn’t want there to be tension. I just wanted to spend time with him this week because that part was easy. I’d rather save the hard shit for later.

“What can I say? I’m a cuddly guy.”

That easily, the thickness in the air parted until it disappeared completely. We ordered breakfast and ate it in his suite, flipping a switch from two guys who’d slept wrapped in each other’s arms to two guys who were just friends. Jeremy rode with me back to my place so I could shower and change before we met Anson and West at the center.

At the end of the day, I drove Jeremy back to his hotel, and he asked me up for dinner. I went and spent the night again. There was no drinking this time. He just said, “It’s late. You can stay if you want,” and I replied, “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

But when we were in bed, I got close to him again. Jeremy hesitated, then wrapped an arm around me, and we went to sleep, two tangled bodies, pretending what we were doing didn’t mean anything, when it did.

The following night and the one after were the same. We spent our days working with our friends and our nights together, talking and getting to know each other more, sharing ourselves more.

My head was a mess, trying to fit those damn puzzle pieces together, trying to form a picture that made sense, but it just came out a blank space and random parts.

I never asked him to go to my house again. Somehow, I knew if I did, Jeremy would say no. It was easier to lie, to pretend this way. When I’d told him he could sleep in my spare room, that was different from having him in my home, in my bed, entwined together.

Anson knew something was up, that part was clear, but he didn’t question me on it. He was letting me go to him, and that meant more to me than I could say.

Jeremy would be leaving the next day. He and West weren’t working at the center, instead deciding to spend some time together.

I thought about catching up with Mia, or seeing if Anson wanted to chill, or hell, just staying home for the first time in a week, but somehow I ended up at my momma’s house. I didn’t have any problems admitting I was a momma’s boy. She was the strongest person I knew.

The door opened before I hit the porch because she was good like that. “You got your hair done.” I kissed her cheek.

“What? This old thing?” She winked.

“I like the twists.”

“Thanks, baby.” We went inside. “How you feeling? Taking advantage of this week? You guys have been killin’ it, but you gotta rest to keep that up.”

I chuckled. She was always making sure I took care of myself, and just being a mom. “I know. I am. I’ve been at the center with Anson and West most of the week. It feels good, helping out. They’re doing good work.”

We ended up in the kitchen because, well, that was another thing moms did. I sat at the breakfast bar and eyed the plate of chocolate chip cookies.

“I’ll get you some milk. And I’m not surprised you enjoy it. I know some of them are over eighteen, but there are a lot of teenagers too, right? You’ve always liked working with kids. Plus, you’re a good man who tries to put good into the world. You make me proud every day.”

She handed me the glass and sat beside me with a drink of her own.

“Thanks, Momma.” I plucked a treat from the plate and dunked it. “West has this friend—Jeremy. He’s from California. The guy I walked with at the wedding. He’s out helping too. He’s kinda part of this whole thing with West. He took care of the center while they were on their honeymoon.”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned his name quite a few times over the past few months.”

I had? Shit. I hadn’t even realized it. “He’s cool. We’ve gotten pretty tight since the wedding.”

Momma let her cookie sit in the milk for a second before taking a bite. “Then he must be good people.”

He was. Jeremy was the best kind of people.

There was a sound, and I looked up just in time to see Deon enter the room. His gaze lit up when he saw me. “Hey, kid.” He always called me kid. It didn’t matter how old I was, and honestly, I fucking loved it. To me, it was a way of reminding me I was his son.

“Hey, Dad.” Deon hugged me.

Then he wrapped his arms around my mom from behind. “Hey, gorgeous.” He kissed her neck, and a smile only Deon could make appear curled her lips. She loved him. They loved each other. It was so clear in everything they did, how they talked to each other and looked at each other and touched each other. It was the same with Anson and West. Mia and Lee. How had they known? When? What made Deon different for Momma or Anson different for West? It wasn’t something I’d ever expected to put so much thought into. Wasn’t something I ever thought would affect me.